


The Red and the Gold

by ValyrianSteel



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, F/M, Fake dating?, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, Is it fake dating if they're married?, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2020-03-20 00:13:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18981229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ValyrianSteel/pseuds/ValyrianSteel
Summary: Post-War AU (Not Season 8 Compliant)Nearly a year into their arranged marriage, Sansa Stark and Jaime Lannister remain strangers to one another. When the Dragon Queen visits Winterfell on her way to the Wall, Sansa and Jaime decide to pretend to be in love in order to deprive Daenerys of the pleasure of seeing that her plan to punish them both with a loveless marriage has thus far been working. What starts as an act quickly evolves into something more real and neither are quite prepared for the consequences.





	1. Chapter 1

Jaime Lannister woke to a rapping on his door, three solid _thunks_ that seemed to echo about his small chambers, pulling a groan from his lips. He cracked his eyes open and glanced at his window; it was well before dawn and the fire had died down to mere embers some time in the night, cloaking the room in darkness. He had half a mind to roll back over, bury himself in the furs until at least a more decent hour, but the pounding at his door sounded again, somewhat louder this time, and he dragged himself to his feet. He reached the door in two long strides and pulled it open to reveal a startled Brienne of Tarth, her brilliant blue eyes wide and mouth slightly agape, her mailed fist raised as if to knock again.

He bit back the sharp retort that had been on the tip of his tongue and swallowed. He knew she would only disturb him at such an ungodly hour if she had no other choice. “Has something happened?”

She lowered her fist and composed herself, at once as calm and collected as he had ever seen her. “Lady Sansa bid me rouse you. You are to attend her in her solar as soon as possible.”

He narrowed his eyes. He knew better than to think his lady wife had summoned him for the pleasure of his company. “ _Brienne_. Has something happened?”

“She would not say.”

A sigh escaped his lips, but he only nodded and promised to make his way to Sansa’s solar as soon as he could. He closed the door and set about making himself decent for her, which was no small task considering his current state. He’d grown better at dressing himself in the years since he’d first lost his hand, though it still took far longer than it had when he was whole.

By the time he reached his wife’s solar, the castle had begun to stir. He passed a serving girl in the corridor as he neared Sansa’s door. The girl passed by him briskly, only pausing to dip the briefest curtsy, her eyes never meeting his, before she scurried off again. It was no different than any of the other servants in Winterfell. He wondered how long he could walk these halls and still feel like a stranger.

When he reached Sansa’s door, Jaime paused. He’d often stood outside it, especially in the early days after he’d first sworn his sword to her, but he’d never had much occasion to step inside. Somehow it felt too intimate to cross her threshold now, especially at such an early hour, as if he were her husband in truth rather than just in name. He shook his head to free himself of the notion, then raised his hand and knocked.

“Enter,” she called.

When he did, the sight that greeted him made his stomach twist in a way that was not entirely uncommon when he was in the presence of Sansa Stark. She was, at all times, a vision and that moment was no exception. She sat at a small table by the hearth, cloaked only in a thin dressing gown of palest grey, her hair unbound and flowing down her back like flame. He came to a stop in the middle of the room and bowed.

“My lady,” he said, as he straightened, watching as her gaze drifted over his form, assessing. Some small part of him wondered what she saw. Her brows drew together faintly and one hand twisted in the fabric of her skirt, though she did not move to speak. “You summoned me?” he prompted when the silence between them stretched thin.

She blinked, seemingly caught off guard for a heartbeat, before she recovered and nodded. “I did. Will you sit with me, Ser?” She gestured to the chair across from her. He fought the urge to lift a brow. If it was rare to be invited into her solar, it was rarer still to be invited to stay. Still, he could think of no reason not to and so he folded himself into the chair she offered with a murmured “thank you” and waited as she drew a breath to speak.

“There was a raven in the night. From your brother.” She slid the slip of parchment across the table toward him and his heart immediately leapt into his throat. “The Dragon Queen is on her way North.”

His eyes scanned the parchment feverishly. It was indeed his brother’s florid script. “She means to make her way to the Wall to survey the status of the repairs there,” he read aloud, his eyes skimming the missive for whatever had distressed her enough to rouse him from his sleep. Finding nothing, he glanced up at her, then narrowed his eyes. “But you don’t believe that.”

Sansa shook her head. “No. The Wall has been in ruins for over a year and she’s never gone so far out of her way. Why now?”

Jaime had no answer.

“It’s a ruse,” she declared, her tone hushed. “I’m sure she _will_ make a visit to the Wall eventually, but she’ll want to stop at Winterfell first to rest and resupply her men. And while she’s here, she’ll be free to question us at her leisure; to investigate her lack of an heir.”

 _Ah,_ he thought, _so that’s what this is about._ He remembered well the ultimatum the Dragon Queen had laid before them - marry and produce an heir, or be branded traitors and executed. If it had meant only his own death, he would have refused and embraced his fate. He had very little to live for, after all, especially after the news of his sister’s death had reached Winterfell. But his refusal would mean Sansa’s death as well. The Dragon Queen was already suspicious of Sansa’s loyalties, ever more aware of the calls for independence among the Northern lords, the growing sentiment that it was Sansa they should have crowned instead of Jon Snow, who either loved or feared Daenerys too much to stand against her. The Dragon Queen had hoped that marriage to a Lannister would quell those ambitions, that the Northern lords would recoil from the thought of a Stark Queen with a Lannister consort. But time had proven her wrong on that account. Sansa’s Lannister husband was but another indignity heaped upon her by a southron Queen, one she bore with grace, and her people loved her all the more for it, even if they despised the man himself.

In the end, they had both agreed to the marriage out of a sense of duty - Jaime, in order to keep his oath to her, and Sansa, in order to prevent the war that would surely follow any attempt on her life. And so they had wed and fulfilled the first part of the bargain, though nearly a yearly later the second remained unfulfilled.

“I cannot bear children,” the Dragon Queen had said flatly when she’d first summoned them to the Great Hall to command their betrothal. “I shall name your first born child my heir and he or she will sit the Iron Throne after me.”

Beside him, he had felt Sansa stiffen. “Our first born child?” she had questioned sharply.

Daenerys had merely nodded. “All of Westeros shall follow the Dornish system of inheritance. Your first born shall inherit the Throne regardless of sex. Your second born shall inherit Winterfell and your third shall serve as heir to Casterly Rock, if Lord Tyrion does not marry and produce an heir of his own.”

Three children. She’d had plans for at least _three_ of their children before they had even been wed. Jaime had felt his hand clench into a fist at his side.

“These are my terms,” Daenerys had announced. “Do you accept?”

As if they had had any option to refuse. Still, Jaime had stood silent and turned his gaze to Sansa at his side; he would not speak before she did.

She had stood for a moment, her blazing gaze turning from the Queen to her brother, who had been sitting in a chair by the hearth, his body half turned from the rest of the room, studiously ignoring her and the Dragon Queen both as if he could block it all out if he stared into the flames hard enough. A long moment had passed in which Sansa had clearly waited for her brother to speak on her behalf. When it had become clear that he would not, Sansa had straightened, her head tilting up and her hands clasping in front of her demurely, her features schooled into an expressionless mask. “As Your Grace commands,” she had said, then swept from the hall without waiting for an answer.

The Dragon Queen’s jaw had clenched at the slight and she had turned abruptly to face him. “And you, Kingslayer?” she had asked.

He had let his lips tilt up into a smirk. “As _my lady_ commands,” he had said, with the slightest tilt of his head to the door Sansa had left through. His message had been loud and clear: _I’m doing this for her, not for you_. He had watched as Daenerys’ violet eyes narrowed, then sketched a mocking bow and left the hall. It had been unwise to needle her, he’d known it even at the time, but he hadn’t been able to resist. He wondered now if his flippancy was coming back to haunt him.

Sansa turned away from the hearth suddenly to face him. “Jaime, this is dangerous for both of us. Trying and failing is one thing, but if she suspects we’ve been willfully ignoring our duty…”

Jaime shook his head. “She can’t have the marriage set aside, not after all the fuss she made about the bedding.”

“No,” she agreed, “but she could have you killed.”

Jaime smirked. “Why, my lady, I never knew you placed such value on my head. You haven’t seemed to have much use for it thus far.”

Sansa’s lips quirked ever so slightly, though she did not smile. “Perhaps not,” she said “but I would never wish to be the cause of your losing it.”

Something warm settled between them for a moment and Jaime found himself at a loss for words. There were times, however brief, when his wife almost seemed not to hate him and he almost allowed himself to wonder.

 _Almost_.

He cleared his throat and glanced away from her. “How long until the Queen arrives?” he asked, nodding toward the parchment on the table between them.

“It’ll likely be a moon’s turn before the court arrives, but I doubt the Queen will be traveling with the rest of the procession. On dragonback, she could be here in as little as three days.”

He sighed. Three days. Three days until the Dragon Queen was upon them and whatever fragile peace they’d built between them was shattered. He ran his hand through his hair and turned toward the hearth.

Sansa sighed. “She meant this marriage to be a punishment for us both, you know that as well as I do. She’ll be so pleased to find us unhappy.”

An idea stuck him then and he turned to face her. “So, don’t let her.”

Her lips parted and her eyes widened ever so slightly. “What do you mean?”

He let a smirk play across his lips. “I suggest a ruse of our own, my lady.” He reached across the table to grasp one of her hands in his, his heart pounding all the while. She didn’t recoil from his touch as he expected, merely looked at him with wide blue eyes, her gaze flitting between his eyes and his lips in a way that made his blood heat. “If she expects an unhappy couple, let us present the opposite picture. Let us appear to be happily in love.”

Sansa shook her head, a mirthless chuckle escaping her lips. “To what end?” she asked, her tone very nearly amused. “Besides provoking her ire, which I admit is a tempting prospect.”

He grinned and leaned closer to her across the table, his voice taking on a conspiratorial tone. “To turn aside her suspicions, my lady. We shall be the picture of marital bliss and the Dragon Queen will have no choice but to return South and leave us to our affairs.”

“And afterward?”

Jaime shook his head and leaned back into his chair. “We’ll worry about that when we come to it.”

A long moment passed in silence, but he could see her weighing the idea in her mind. Finally, a slow smile spread across her face and she turned her hand to thread her fingers through his. “Well, husband,” she said, and he couldn't deny the thrill that raced up his spine at the word, “it appears we have much to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full disclosure: this is my first attempt at writing a multi-chapter fic and I am nervous AF so please be gentle with me, lol. I'm also a crazy person who has 2 jobs and very little free time but is still somehow trying to write a fic so this may not be updated as quickly as other fics on this site. That said, I appreciate your taking the time to read this and I hope you'll stick around for future chapters! Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jaime and Sansa realize they are not as unaffected by each other as they thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I just want to say a huge THANK YOU to everyone for all of the support this fic has received thus far. Your words of encouragement truly mean the world to me. I may not have time to reply to every comment, but know that I read them all and they're what keeps me going!
> 
> And now, without further ado: chapter 2.

Sansa Stark stepped into her chambers and sighed, crossing the room and sinking gratefully into one of the chairs by the hearth. It wasn’t even midday and she was already exhausted. She’d spent the morning making her rounds about the castle, making arrangements for the court’s imminent arrival at Winterfell. While their stores had recovered somewhat from the state they’d been in during the War, she doubted they could stretch to accommodate the court for much longer than a fortnight, and even then they would need to be somewhat economical with the dishes they served. She hoped the Queen would not view it as a slight, though she was sure she would find a way to take offense if that was truly her goal. Sansa supposed she would find out soon enough.

As she’d made her rounds about the castle, Sansa had also set about quietly setting the plan she and Jaime and agreed upon into motion.

The first order of business had been moving her husband’s belongings to her own chambers, something that had taken the servants an embarrassingly short amount of time, as it seemed he owned little more than a few trunks of clothes, a small assortment of daggers and the plain silver armor he had taken to wearing after the War, all of which now sat neatly in a previously unused corner of the room near her bed.

Even so, it felt strange to have Jaime’s belongings in her chambers, as though it somehow made him more real in her mind. The silver armor on its stand drew her eye and she crossed the room to stand before it. Though plain, it was clearly well cared for, the steel plate polished nearly to a fine sheen. She knew Jaime had no squire, so he could only have done so himself. She ran a hand over one of the pauldrons idly, trying to imagine him bent over the steel with an oilcloth in his hand and a frown of concentration on his face. The picture was strangely endearing and she shook her head to dispel the image from her mind. It would not do to think of him in such fond terms.

She turned her attention to the trunks beside the armor stand and opened one, sifting through it absently. Her husband’s clothes were all surprisingly subdued, simple black and brown leather and wool, not a stitch of embroidery or embellishment to be found. It looked more like a soldier’s wardrobe than a lord’s and she wondered how she hadn’t noticed it before. _I shall have to remedy that_ , she thought, already beginning to plan what she could make for him and how she could improve upon what he already had, when the sound of her chamber door opening startled her from her thoughts. She closed the lid of the trunk she’d been looking through and hastily turned to face the door.

Jaime stepped through the doorway, looking deep in thought and seeming utterly oblivious to his surroundings. He was covered in a fine sheen of sweat and running his hand through his damp hair absently as he walked and Sansa found she had a moment to take him in. He was dressed in black breeches and a brown leather jerkin, as unadorned as everything else he owned. The leather of his black boots was fine, but well-worn and he wore a black glove over his golden hand. The finest thing he wore, by far, was the sword about his waist, it’s golden pommel glinting in the light streaming in from the casement, the ruby set in its hilt seeming to wink at her as he turned toward her. All at once, he halted in his steps and his gaze shot up to meet hers.

“Forgive me, my lady, I didn’t mean to intrude. I was told my chambers had been moved here.”

“Yes,” she said, “I gave the order this morning.” She hesitated. “I... hope you don’t mind.” She chided herself for sounding so unsure, but if Jaime noticed, he made no mention of it.

“No,” he said, “That was smart. We’ll need to share chambers anyway while the Dragon Queen is here. Best to start now.”

She nodded and they stood in awkward silence for a moment, neither quite sure where they should look. For her part, Sansa found her eyes drawn to the open neck of her husband’s jerkin and the small beads of sweat that rolled down his clavicle and disappeared from view. She ought to have found the sight repellent but instead she found it vaguely appealing. The thought made her face heat and she glanced up only to find his gaze already on her, his green eyes alight with amusement and something else she couldn’t quite place. She cleared her throat and rushed to speak before he could comment.

“You were in the training yard just now?” she asked, trying to distract them both from her wayward thoughts.

“Yes,” he said. “I often train in the early hours before the day begins in earnest.”

She knew that, of course. After a year of his living in Winterfell, she was no stranger to his routine. But she only nodded sagely and willed her blush to die down.

“Was Brienne in the yard as well?”

He nodded. “She and Podrick are putting the men through their paces, but she’ll be here in an hour or two. I told her I’d stand watch at your door until then.” He shifted on his feet. “Though, if you’ll excuse me, my lady, I ought to change before I do,” he said with a gesture toward his sweat-soaked attire, a rueful grin on his lips.

“Yes, of course,” she said quickly, stepping away from the trunks that held his clothes. “There’s a basin in the washroom, if you like,” she said, gesturing to the door behind her. His gaze flicked over her shoulder and he nodded his thanks, but he made no move toward the door. Instead he half turned from her and began to pull at the laces of his jerkin, slowly undoing the ties with his good hand, and it suddenly dawned on her that he meant to strip the garment off right there in front her. Her blush flamed even higher at the thought and she swiftly turned away from him.

“I’ll just-” she stopped herself before she could say _go_ , hating how awkward that sounded to her own ears, and drew a breath to compose herself. “I shall await you in my solar, Ser,” she said with more aplomb, sparing only the briefest of glances over her shoulder before she swept from the room, though that glance was enough to reveal Jaime watching her with glittering green eyes, a fair portion of his muscled chest exposed as he resolutely continued working at the ties, a sly grin stretched across his lips.

The image stayed with her long after she’d seated herself at the desk in her solar and settled a book of accounts on the stretch of wood in front of her. Gods, what was _wrong_ with her? In all the many moons they’d been wed, she hadn’t been this affected by him. Not since-

Not since their wedding night.

Sansa closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. It would do no good whatsoever to think on that now. She thought of that night all too often as it was.

With a sigh, she pulled the book of accounts closer and shifted her focus to the neat columns of numbers, doing her best to lose herself in the task.

Some time later she heard heavy footfalls and glanced up to find Jaime standing a few paces away from her desk. He was dressed in full plate and bowed when he caught her eye. His eyes were devoid of their previous mischievous glint and she nearly allowed herself to breathe a sigh of relief. She didn’t how much more of his teasing she could take today.

“I’ll be outside if you have need of me,” he said, moving to cross the room to take up his station outside her door.

“Ser Jaime,” she called before she could think better of it and he paused mid-step, turning back to face her. “I had thought to visit the glass gardens to see the progress of the new crops there.” She closed the book that sat on the desk in front of her and stood from her chair. “I should be honored if you would accompany me.”

The invitation was superfluous, she knew. As her sworn shield, he was obliged to follow her wherever she lead. But she didn’t want him to follow her merely out of duty alone. He was a great lord in his own right, and though she’d never treated him as such, she meant to make amends for that now. She had two other sworn shields, after all, and countless men-at-arms to command. But she had only one husband.

Jaime watched her for a moment, likely trying to divine her intentions, before dipping his head in agreement. “As my lady commands,” he said and waited for her to cross the threshold ahead of him before he fell into step behind her.

Sansa’s thoughts were in turmoil as they made the familiar crossing from her solar to the courtyard below. The clink of Jaime’s armor was loud in her ears and she half turned to find that he was following her closer than usual, only a pace and half behind her now instead of the more discreet distance he normally maintained. It made it impossible to ignore him as she usually did, though she knew it was merely part of their plan.

They’d agreed that they would need to start showing affection for each other when they were around others, as they could hardly expect the Northern lords to believe that they had fallen in love overnight when they’d had nearly a year’s worth of evidence to the contrary. It was paramount that they convince Sansa’s bannermen and the castle servants alike, as any doubts that they held would surely make their way back to the Dragon Queen, and the consequences of that could be dire. Yet their affection would need to seem real and so it must be subtle, no grand displays or lovelorn looks across the Great Hall as that would all seem too sudden to hold any merit.

Instead, they would lace their interactions with enough unspoken affection that any onlooker would see a couple that was undoubtedly fond of each other, but unwilling to display that affection in front of prying eyes, at least until the Dragon Queen arrived and their game began in earnest.

It was the only reason she didn’t jump when their shoulders brushed as they passed down the narrow stairs to the lower level of the castle, or when they reached the glass gardens and Jaime held the door open for her, the fingers of his good hand pressing into the small of her back briefly as she moved to step past him.

 _Part of the plan_ , she told herself, even as her heart leapt into her throat at the casual touch. _Just part of the plan._

The warm, earthy air of the gardens hit her as she stepped inside and she closed her eyes briefly, breathing it in. Sansa had always loved the glass gardens as a girl. She’d come here often to look upon the blue winter roses that grew on a trellis in the center of the garden, sometimes picking a few to weave into flower crowns for her hair.

Without thinking, she followed her feet through the hedges and before long, she found herself standing before that same trellis. The winter roses were sparse compared to the thriving plants of her youth, but they were there all the same, and she felt her eyes fill absurdly at the sight. She tilted her face up and blinked back the tears that threatened to fall. Before long, she heard a rustling of armor as Jaime approached and she turned her face away.

“My lady,” he called quietly, and she turned back to face him. “Are you well?”

His green eyes were soft, softer perhaps than she had ever seen them and filled with clear concern. 

 _No,_ she wanted to say. _Nor will I be, if you keep looking at me like that_. But instead she only nodded, not trusting her voice enough to speak.

Jaime gave her a look that clearly said he didn’t believe her, but he turned away from her and eyed the roses speculatively. She was about to turn away in search of Vyman, the head gardener, when he turned back to her with a question in his eyes. Her brows drew together in confusion until her gaze caught on the blue rose in his hand and she stilled. He took a step toward her, then another, and she could do nothing but gaze up at him as he tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear, then pressed the flower into place among the strands. His gaze dipped to her lips and for one wild moment, she thought he might kiss her but he reached for her hand instead, pulling it up to his lips and planting a lingering kiss on her knuckles, before releasing her hand and stepping back.

Sansa let out a shuddering breath that was anything but feigned. She didn’t think he had ever looked at her with such tenderness in his eyes and she wondered what had changed that he looked upon her with such fondness now.

 _Part of the plan_ , she realized and her heart hardened even as it sank. Of course. _Of course_.

She felt her back straighten and her shoulders draw back and she turned abruptly away from him, her feet leading her blindly down the path towards the entrance. She didn’t pause to see if he followed.

 _Life is not a song, sweetling_ , she recalled.

 _Yes,_ she vowed. _I will remember._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're all ready to meet the real villain of this fic: Miscommunication! Haha
> 
> I jest, but in all honestly, the tragedy of what's going on here is that Jaime and Sansa both secretly WANT a real marriage with each other, but they're convinced that's not what the other person wants so they're quietly testing their boundaries (Jaime especially) and hiding behind the "it's all an act" excuse so that they don't have to fess up to their real feelings. Which is quite a dangerous game to play for two people with as complicated histories as Jaime and Sansa.
> 
> Next chapter will be Jaime's POV and we'll see his perspective on what's going on between him and Sansa. We also have a chapter or 2 more before Dany arrives and the real games begin. 
> 
> As always, thank you for reading!


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